


what goes up, ghost around

by LadyAlice101



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, ghost!jon - Freeform, yeah that's pretty much it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 21:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20803274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAlice101/pseuds/LadyAlice101
Summary: “And they disappeared,” Sansa stresses. “Ergo, a ghost. Ergo, this house is haunted.”In an attempt to make her feel better, Jon says, “Look I’ve been here a while and I’ve never seen anything strange. You’re safe, I promise.”“Well, how long is a while?” Sansa demands. “Maybe you just haven’t been here long enough to see.”“203 years,” he tells her. “Give or take. So I think I’d know if it was haunted.”





	what goes up, ghost around

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunbeamsandmoonrays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbeamsandmoonrays/gifts).

> no plot. no backstory. just mindless fluff and fun.

A scream sounds from the bathroom, making Jon shoot to his feet in alarm.

He pounds on the bathroom door, shouting, “Sansa! Are you okay?”

The door swings open, making Jon stumble into her as Sansa rushes out, hair and body dripping wet, a towel clutched loosely to her body.

“What happened?” he asked, looking her up and down, trying to see if she’s hurt herself. He can’t see anything obvious, so he peers into the bathroom, looking around for the perpetrator - a spider, perhaps.

“This house is haunted, I swear to gods!” Sansa declares, breathing deeply, tugging the towel tighter around her.

Jon tries not to roll his eyes, because he doesn’t want to invalidate her fears, but he’d genuinely thought that she’d seriously hurt herself. Her fear that there’s some angry ghost floating around the house is neither newsworthy nor worth the panic that had filled him head to toe.

There isn’t a ghost in the house out to get her. He’d know.

“It’s not _haunted,” _Jon tells her. He’s not sure it helps, because she gives him a fierce glare.

“It _is!” _Sansa insists. “I swear, I heard something move on the counter and when I looked out someone was watching me!”

Jon frowns deeply, feeling a twinge of unease, despite being adamant only a moment ago that she’d been seeing things that weren’t there. He hadn’t seen anything while he’d been on the lounge, and a quick look in the bathroom reveals nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly he knows there’s no one else in the house but - . . . if she says someone was watching her, he believes her.

But he doesn’t exactly know how to fix whatever it is that’s scared her.

“And they disappeared,” Sansa stresses. “Ergo, a ghost. Ergo, this house is _haunted.” _

In an attempt to make her feel better, Jon says, “Look I’ve been here a while and I’ve never seen anything strange. You’re safe, I promise.”

“Well, how long is a while?” Sansa demands. “Maybe you just haven’t been here long enough to see.”

Jon’s lip twitches. He and Sansa have living together for almost seven months now, she having taken the space after he’d posted an ad online. They know a lot about each other at this point, and Jon loves living with her, but somehow she’s never asked how long he’s lived in this house.

“203 years,” he tells her. “Give or take. So I think I’d know if it was haunted.”

Sansa blinks once, quickly, and then a second time, much more sluggishly.

“What.” She says, deadpan, staring at him with intense eyes. “That’s not funny.”

Jon frowns, and cocks his head. “What’s not funny?”

Sansa gestures wildly in the air, flinging droplets of water around, and suddenly Jon realizes just how naked she is. His gaze wavers from her face, looking down to the delicious curve of her breast, and her long legs sticking out from the towel. _Gods _it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman, Ygritte was the last he’s fairly sure, but that was what, 1957 maybe –

“How long have you really been here?” she demands. He drags his eyes back up to her face, which has twisted into a scowl.

“203 years,” Jon says slowly, unsure what she’d misunderstood. “I moved in in 1816.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been alive since 1816?” Sansa says, and he can’t quite make out what her tone means.

“Well no, I was born in 1793,” Jon tells her, unsure why she’s acting so freaked out. “Why, when were you born?”

“1996!” she says, hands flying about again. “Like a normal person! What are you – are you immortal? Are you the _ghost?!” _

Jon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m not the ghost!” he informs her, a little appalled that she’d think he would go into the bathroom while she was showering to watch her.

“So you’re immortal,” Sansa says narrowing her eyes at him.

Jon hesitates, licking his lips. “Well, no,” he says finally. “I died in 1817, the year after I moved in here. I suppose I’m _a _ghost. But I’m not _the _ghost, why would I haunt you? I like you having you here, why would I scare you into leaving?”

Sansa’s mouth has dropped often uncomfortably wide. Jon starts to feel a bit nervous, a pit forming in his stomach. He could have sworn that Sansa knew this. He’s pretty sure he told her this when she first moved in.

Or . . . wait. Maybe that was the last person. Gods, Jon has had a lot of roommates over the years.

“Jon, are you fucking with me right now?” Sansa demands, and this time he can clearly detect the edge to her voice is thinly veiled panic.

He feels bad for telling her, now. If he’d known that she didn’t know, he wouldn’t have just dropped it on her. He would have sat her down, quietly, got her comfortable, maybe gave her a foot massage. His fingers would probably have trailed up her calf, though, and gods how much he wants to lift the hem of one of her pretty little dresses, trailing open-mouthed kisses up her thighs and pulling what he’s sure are lace panties from her hips –

No. _Stop that. _This is no time to be having inappropriate thoughts about his roommate. His very-much-alive, while he’s very-much-dead, roommate.

He swallows harshly, then looks back to her face from where his eyes had dipped to her bare legs.

“No,” he replies finally. “Definitely not fucking yo – with you.”

Sansa doesn’t even pick up on his slip she’s so shocked by his revelation. Which, well. Is probably a good thing, because he’s not sure he would be able to convince her that he’s not the perverted ghost that is apparently haunting her if he said something like that.

She presses her palm to her forehead, and a laugh escapes her, a deranged, crazed laugh.

Jon’s eyes widen in concern, lips parting as he wonders whether she’s having some kind of psychotic break.

“A ghost!” Sansa cackles, rolling her eyes and spinning on the spot, her wet hair fanning around her. “I’m in love with a ghost!”

This time Jon feels like _he’s _the one who can’t grasp what’s going on. _In love with? _No. She can’t be. That mustn’t be what she meant. She just . . . misspoke. Probably. Likely. He should ask her to clarify.

“Uh, in love with?” he asks, trying not to squeak but failing miserably.

Sansa freezes, slowly turning around on the spot to face him.

“Um.” She takes a deep breath, eyes wide like a startled doe, and then they narrow at him as she points an accusing finger. “If we’re going to focus on surprising declarations then I think we should focus on _yours!” _

Jon swallows, unable to take his eyes off her. “So you meant it?” he tries to clarify. If his heart still beat, he’s sure it would be pounding out of his chest. “Because if you did I . . . well, I’m in love with you, too.”

For the second time that day, Jon gets vaguely concerned that Sansa might be about to keel over from shock. She blinks at him several times, mouth in a surprised little _oh, _and Jon wonders if she’d push him away if he tried to kiss her.

He decides that that might be too much to spring on her just yet, so instead he goes to stand before her and takes her hand. He presses his lips to her knuckles, a tender promise of times gone past, and her mouth cracks into a large smile at his action.

“See, now I believe you,” she teases, “who even does that any more? But I think I should get a real kiss, don’t you?”

Jon is only too happy to oblige.


End file.
